


Commission Fics

by FunkyMeihem



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Drabbles, F/M, Other, commissions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 07:39:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14515575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunkyMeihem/pseuds/FunkyMeihem
Summary: I'm taking writing commissions! Here is my collection of drabbles and ficlets for my wonderful readers and supporters!Please visit http://funkymeihem-fiction.tumblr.com/post/173304451636/ko-fi-commissions to find out more. :)





	Commission Fics

**Author's Note:**

> Short fic about Poker Night, for 113blackmambo!

**POKER NIGHT THURSDAYS**

 

“Are you sure this is a good idea? When y’said we’d be bringing in a new player, _that_ one wasn’t exactly on the top of my list.” Torbjorn grumbled aloud, adjusting the legs of his chair and letting his seat clank into place, higher than normal. Now that there was another behemoth arriving soon, they’d had to adjust the table accordingly. “And he’d better not be bringing the rat boy with him. This is supposed to be our only night of peace and quiet!”  
  
Jack grunted what might have been a laugh from where he was laying out the stacks of cards and chips. “You call it peace and quiet, the way you and Reinhardt carry on when you’ve had a few?”  
  
The shorter man sputtered a bit. “Well…Well, it’s a night for _relaxation_ , is my point! And the last thing we need are any bombs messing it up!”  
  
“Aaaah, my friends! The only bombs are going to be the ones I drop upon you with my winning cards!” The door swooshed open and Reinhardt had to duck just a little to enter, holding a steaming tray in both hands, protected by a pair of fluffy farm-themed oven mitts, a cartoon pig and a cow. “And stop your whining, Torbjorn. It’s been ages since we’ve had a new player, and zey have yet to try my Wilhelm’s Best- Bean, Beer, and Bacon dip! Emphasis on the bacon! Hahaaa!”  
  
“…Like drinking straight grease,” Jack groaned quietly.  
  
“He’s going to love it! He loves pigs! A man after my own heart!” Reinhardt bustled to the table, setting down the still-boiling dish and shedding his animal mitts.  
  
“If you have a heart left after all that. Angela’s been after you about your sausage diet.”  
  
The enormous man gave him a bit of a dirty look with his remaining eye. “We have a new guest! He is deserving of our best hospitality! Our best dishes to welcome him! …What did you bring to us tonight, renegade man?”  
  
Jack’s eyes darted slightly at that, but he managed a vague gesture at the table. “I didn’t forget. I brought food too,” he said, even though he had to admit that maybe his offering of corn chips and jarred salsa from the gas station nearby was being a bit overshadowed.  
  
“Hmmmm!” Reinhardt answered, his graying mustache tilting on the edges and giving away that he was smirking.  
  
Torbjorn snickered, hauling himself up into his chair with a little oof. “We going to talk about my award-winning meatballs all night, or play cards?”  
  
Reinhardt turned upon him at once. “Ahhh, Torbjorn, rest assured, nobody here wants to talk about anything regarding your meatballs! Ah ha ha! AAAHAHAHAH!”  
  
“Boys,” There was another whooshing noise, as the door opened and Ana made her way in, also holding a tray. “Are we getting rowdy already?”  
  
“Süsse!” Reinhardt, instantly smitten as usual, leapt forward to gallantly attend her, swooping the tray out of her hands and carrying it reverently off to the brimming buffet table. “Let me get that for you, mein schatz.”  
  
“Thank you, habibi. Everyone, you know our new guest this evening?” She was joined suddenly by an immense round shape that towered above her, looming in out of the dimmed lights of the hallway, the blank white lenses of his pig mask glinting eerily and the low groan of his mask’s filters doing nothing to help his intimidating visage. Ana seemed completely unperturbed, smiling up at him. “Roadhog, this is everyone. We’ve been…missing our fifth player, for a while now…But as one of our older veterans, I had a feeling you’d fit right in. Please, take a seat, make yourself right at home.”  
  
Hog uttered a low rumble and nodded, lowering his immense weight onto one of Reinhardt’s spare ‘larger’ chairs. Even then it groaned a bit from the strain. But then from beneath the grind of his mask, came the sound of him sniffing, and he slowly turned to eye the food nearby.  
  
Reinhardt beamed so hard he practically started glowing. “AH-haaaaa! I told you, none can resist the spell of my German cuisine! Roadhog, my friend, let me get you a plate. Pretzels from my homeland, and my special Wilhelm’s Best- Bean, Beer, and Bacon dip, made from only ze finest - “  
  
“No thanks,” Hog said.  
  
“The man has taste after all!” Torbjorn sneered, noting Reinhardt’s crestfallen expression. “Which is why he’s going to love my Swedish meatballs. This is a recipe passed down from Ingrid’s great, great grandmother, one of the Lindholm family’s greatest treasures. We take allspice, onion, garlic, eggs, pork - “  
  
“No thanks,” Hog said.  
  
Instead he reached past the towering trays and mounds of food…and selected Jack’s bag of corn chips and dumped them out onto his plate, covering it with the generic salsa. Joined only by some of Ana’s deviled eggs, he turned the rest of the dishes down flat. When confronted by the aghast tones of Reinhardt and Torbjorn, he shrugged one gigantic shoulder and would only say, “No pork,” while Jack sat back in his chair and utterly failed to hide his victory grin.  
  
But Ana was quick to guide the situation, and soon brought booze and cards into play. Beers were popped open, drinks were poured, decks were shuffled, and poker night had truly begun.  


* * *

  
  
Roadhog said little, as expected. He would mostly use different tones of grunts to signal yes or no, or at the most answered with five words or less. Any attempts to pry into his mysterious life or his ‘veteran’ status were quickly rebuffed. And though Torbjorn started to get a little drunk and started complaining about using a pig mask to hide his face and his tells, Ana distracted him by almost physically shoving more food into his jaws to stifle him.  
  
Hog ignored most of it. He was here to play cards. And as it turned out, Roadhog was very, very good at playing cards.  
  
Jack was the first to lose his chips, followed swiftly by the inebriated Torbjorn. Ana put up more of a fight, but eventually she had to call it in too, sighing in defeat as she slid the remainder of her chips away from her. That left Reinhardt and Roadhog, sweating it out under the lamps as they shuffled through their cards. Reinhardt looked down at his cards and slid his pile of chips to the center of the table. Roadhog quickly did the same. It was getting late, and there was only time for one more high-stakes game.  
  
Reinhardt, still doing his best to keep his boisterous personality at bay, was finally able to bellow in triumph as he threw his final hand onto the table. “I hate to do zis to our guest, but I’ve never believed in beginner’s luck! Read zem and weep! Hahaaaa!”  
  
The three onlookers gasped at the jacks and 7s now laid out on the tabletop. A full house.  
  
But they gasped all the louder when Roadhog rumbled and simply threw down a straight flush of diamonds atop it, soon after.  
  
The room exploded into cheers (and the sound of Reinhardt’s very vocal disbelief) as Hog was declared the winner. Groaning, Reinhardt began counting out the credits for his losing game, but Hog stopped him when he offered out the money. Turning away any efforts to pay him, he seemed to have his eyes on a very different kind of prize. Instead, he pointed towards the farm-animal oven mitts that Reinhardt had used to bring in his dip; specifically, the smiling cartoon pig.  
  
Taking his new piggy oven mitt and leaving the losers to clean up the food, bottles, and remains of the game night, Hog bid them all a polite good night and started back towards his room. He only paused when Ana hurried over and went to place a stilling hand on his arm.  
  
“Can we pencil you in as our fifth player next Thursday as well?” she said. "You're always welcome back, you know."  
  
“Yes! YES! I _demand_ a rematch!” Reinhardt bellowed behind her. “And I will bring somezing besides pork! How do you feel about kartoffelpuffer, my friend?!”  
  
“I can, uh, bring some more chips and salsa?” Jack offered.  
  
Torbjorn snored loudly into the tabletop, the cards fluttering away from him.  
  
Roadhog paused, his eyes hidden behind the glass lenses of his mask as he glanced over each of them, one by one. He thought about it for a few moments, possibly going over his schedule on Thursdays, or wondering who he could foist Junkrat off on for a bit, or whether these game nights were worth continuing. But after a bit he seemed to come to a decision, looking slowly down to Ana and nodding once.  
  
“…Yeah…All right.”


End file.
